


MST3K Ficlets

by TrickrTreason



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Emetophilia, Hanahaki Disease, Kiss Battle, Multi, Unrequited Love, bubble wrap innuendo, gratuitous lipstick, nothing too graphic, tag will change with new chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10823106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickrTreason/pseuds/TrickrTreason
Summary: Sort of a series of short MST3K fics ranging from fluff to angst to anything in-between.





	1. Forrester/Frank fluff

It was another night at Deep 13, Dr. Forrester and TV’s Frank sitting together on their beat up old couch, a mindless sit-com playing on the television and take out Chinese food slowly cooling on the coffee table before them. Though, instead of mildly laughing at the lame jokes the television tried to provide or even making a snarky quip to pass the time, Frank’s mind seemed to be somewhere else completely. He was more _reserved _, quiet even.__

__Not even pretending to be watching the television, instead his was carefully observing the mad scientist’s hands laying limply in his own, thumb softly brushing over each scar littering his fingers, hand and wrist. They made intricate patterns on the older man’s soft hands, slightly leathery from working with so many biohazardous chemicals over the years. It was, almost hypnotic._ _

__“Frank?” came a voice from beside him. “Frank, are you alright? You seem, I don’t know, more quiet than usual.” Frank looked over at Clayton and smiled softly. He was greeted with gentle sleepy eyes behind crooked florescent frames, his brow furrowed slightly in worry. His hair was even more of a mess than usual, pony tail completely disregarded, fluffy locks of auburn and grey reaching shoulder length. Frank reached up and grabbed a lock, caressing it sweetly._ _

__“You have a lot of scars on your hands and stuff,” Frank said. It came out sounding more stupid and blunt than he had hoped and accidentally found himself wincing at Clay’s confused expression._ _

__“Feh, you’re one to talk Frankie-boy, after all the times I’ve killed and experimented on you, your body should be mostly scar tissue by now,” he said good naturedly._ _

__“Yeah, but it just seems weird that you’ve got so many scars. I don’t know, I know some of them are probably from chemicals or whatever but some of them don’t even look like burns.”_ _

__Forrester sighed deeply, briefly shutting his eyes to allow himself some time to think of a response._ _

__“Well, yeah. I was never well liked and children can be cruel to those who are different in society,” he said in a slightly huffy tone. Frank could tell he had accidentally brought up a sore subject. Lifting up the scientist’s hand, he placed a firm kiss to the back of it, lips atop of one of the thicker scars running lengthwise down his hand._ _

__“I’m gonna beat them up,” Frank said sternly. There was a moment of still and unsure silence before Clayton burst into a fit of laughter, at both the seriousness of his henchman’s voice and also the absurd notion._ _

__“Frank, that was years ago. I’m sure they’ve all grown by now and moved passed this,” he choked out through boughs of giggles, a few stray tears of mirth peeking out through crinkled eyes._ _

__“I’m gonna do it,” Frank repeated, voice lighter, smirking at his partner’s laughter. Frank leaned in and nuzzled the crook of Dr. Forrester’s neck, the other man squealing softly at the abrupt contact._ _

__“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you and get away with it.” Forrester barked out a quick laugh and laid his head down on Frank’s chest._ _

__“Shut up you goof, or we’ll miss the entire episode.” Shrugging it off, Frank wrapped his arm around Clayton’s waist before placing a kiss in the center of his forehead. The tenderness of this evening was not lost on Dr. Forrester, who simply closed his eyes and snuggled further into Frank, not letting the moment pass by._ _


	2. Hanahaki Disease (Max)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tv's Son of Tv's Frank finds himself vomiting flowers whenever he's near a certain mad scientist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite tropes, and pretty much all the flowers in this fic are symbolic. :) As a plant science major I just had to do it.

He wasn’t sure when it started happening but he knew it would probably never stop. A fullness in the back of his throat, followed by a coughing fit, followed by peonies, or forget-me-nots littering his hands, clothes and the floor he stood on. It was only when it started getting distracting in school did Frank’s father take him to the doctor’s to get him checked out, to see what was wrong. 

Hanahaki disease, an illness spawned from unrequited love that has no known cure. Reading those words for the first time at the tender age of twelve, Max felt his entire future being washed down the drain. He was supposed to be a scientist; he was supposed to do something with his life. He would have cried if he knew he could stop once he started. 

The car ride home was long and painful and even more so when Dr. Forrester and his precocious little daughter Kinga came over for supper. He spent the night in his room, claiming a stomach ache. He couldn’t bear to face Kinga at this time. What would she even think, a pansy coughing up pansies, it’s absurd. 

That night was easily one of the worst nights of Max’s life. Sitting on the floor on his dark room heaving and coughing and sobbing until he was sure he was dehydrated. When he woke up the next morning, his eyes were red and swollen and there was a small puddle on drool from when he fell asleep on his carpet. On the floor around him he was surrounded by acacia blossoms and daffodils.

As Max got older he got better at hiding his disease, and by the time he reached adulthood the symptoms had decreased rapidly so he was only coughing up two to three petals a day. That was until, he had gotten the phone call from Kinga. The phone call that would change his life forever, make him quit his job, make him sell his apartment and make him lose most of his friends.

When he’d gotten the phone call asking, no, telling him that he’d be working with her at Gizmonics Institute, he was completely speechless, that is, until he felt a heaviness at the back of his throat. He hadn’t the time to hang up the phone or even run to the bathroom before he was on his knees retching. Gagging roughly, from his mouth fell a blue hyacinth, completely intact, followed by a sprinkling of purple lilacs and some leftover blue petals. 

Max could feel the hot sting of humiliation pricking at his eyes as he heard Kinga yelling at him from the phone haphazardly tossed to the floor. A startling realization was made at that time, and he knew that if he worked with her, his symptoms would only worsen. Max may not have been the smartest man, but he wasn’t stupid, he knew there was no way in Hell that Kinga Forrester could ever return the feelings he apparently had for her. He also knew that living a life without Kinga Forrester was one he would not lead. In was in his blood to be endlessly devoted to the Forresters until his untimely demise, and with how his illness acts up at even the sound of the mad scientist’s voice, he figured his death would come sooner than anyone could’ve thought of. 

He sold his apartment, and eventually moved to Moon 14 with Kinga. He would set his alarm early so he could try to purge any flowers that happened after he went to bed. He stopped eating regular meals and replaced them with hot tea to soothe his permanently raw throat, and, he eventually adjusted to his new lifestyle. 

He was talking to the test subject, Kinga had just stormed off after an incredibly botched invention exchange, hollering in her leave “Max, send them the movie!”. He coughed; he gagged slightly before revealing in his cupped hands a single, forester green orchid. 

“Huh, how ironic,” Max said. “Today’s movie is No Orchids for Miss Blandish. Neat!”


	3. Bubble Wrap (Forrester/Frank)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based loosely on the prompt "Person A makes clumsy Person B a bubble wrap outfit"

Things were going pretty smoothly on the Satellite of Love for Joel and the ‘bots. They hadn’t had any particularly bad movies as of late and the way the day was going, things were pretty chill. Tom Servo and Crow were right now in a heated game of Taboo, in which Crow was stuck on the word “heterological”. 

“Oh come on! This word is so easy that it _blanks _itself!” Tom cried out, arms flailing uselessly by his sides.__

__“Tom that’s disgusting!” Crow replied in shock._ _

__“Oh get your gold plated head out of the gutter and listen!”_ _

__Joel shook his head fondly at the two of them bickering. It was better that they plan their games rather than getting into indescribable mayhem on the ship. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flashing light on the control board. The Mads._ _

__“Oh great, I wonder what Sonny and Cher want,” he mumbled to no one, reaching past the ‘bots to hit the button._ _

__“Hello boobies,” came the booming voice of Dr. Forrester._ _

__“Hello Dr. Forrester and, say, where’s TV’s Frank?” asked Joel._ _

__“Yeah,” said Crow. “Where’s that bumbling scamp that we’ve all come to know and love?”_ _

__Dr. Forrester’s eyes flicked to the edge of the screen in hesitation._ _

__“Er, he’ll be out in a moment, he’s getting in costume.” Joel couldn’t help but to roll his eyes, if there was a costume involved in his bosses invention exchanges, they were in for something and weird and sick.  
“So boobie, what have you got for me?” Joel then proceeded to lift a very heavy metal box out from under the consol. _ _

__“Well sir I’m glad you asked. Have you ever wished you had an easier access to bacon fat, in case you were going to make maybe candles or Johnny cakes?”_ _

__“In case ya’re having some wicked good friends ovah for some gossip and coffee milk,” Tom piped in, spoken in a very bad Rhode Island accent._ _

__“Yeah, or that,” said Joel. “Introducing the Bacon De-Dehydrator, it can turn any piece of bacon into pure grease in seconds. What do you think sir?”_ _

__“I think I’m gonna be sick. Frank! Frank come out here!” Forrester yelled out. On screen appeared a TV’s Frank dressed head to toe up in the nines with bubble wrap._ _

__“Our invention this week is stylish 3 piece suit made of bubble wrap for our dear clumsy friends out there, Frank please turn.” Forrester gestured to Frank’s back. “And as you can see, there is extra cushioning on the, eh hem, behind, in case of any accidental fallings. Frank, what are your thoughts on this week’s invention?”_ _

__Frank faced the screen and laughed, tone matching the made-for-TV-fakeness of Forrester’s._ _

__“Why, in this suit, the only thing I’m falling for is you Dr. Forrester,” he said good naturedly, giving the good doctor a light kiss on the cheek with his final comment. Joel and the ‘bots watched on in horror as Dr. Forrester’s face turned bright crimson from his hairline all the way to his neck. His hand just barely dusted over where Frank kissed him._ _

__“Frank, give them movie sign.”_ _

__“But we haven’t even introduced the movie ye-“_ _

__“FRANK, give them movie sign!”_ _

__As soon as the screen went dark Forrester grabbed Frank by the hair and drew him into a hard, mouth bruising kiss. It was short, but Frank could already feel his lip swelling._ _

__“Hey, what was that for Clay?” he asked, looking slightly hurt. Clayton bent down and kissed him against, softer and more chaste._ _

__“I like you too, you buffoon,” he murmured into Frank’s lips. He could feel the other man smile against his lips._ _

__“Say Frank, what do you say we go… pop some bubble wrap,” Frank nodded his head dumbly, pale face lit up the color of roses._ _

__“Yes sir!”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are very appreciated
> 
> ...  
> (If Joel is allowed to make obscure midwest references, I can make obscure New England ones.)


	4. Battle of the Mads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mads are reviewing a sucky movie to see if it's bad enough to send up to Mike and the bots, but Pearl finds a better way to pass the movie's runtime.

Castle Forrester had been completely moved into for a few weeks and there are certainly signs of it. Weapons and bottles of certain poison are left out and about like one would place knick-knacks; there are trashy romance books, trashy alien romance books and lint rollers askew on the floors and furniture. 

But it was a Saturday night, and on Saturdays the coffee table and the three person couch were completely cleaned off. Ash trays were emptied and drink and brain coasters were set; it was Movie Night for the Mads. 

The three of them would pile onto the couch with a treasure trove of popcorn, sodas, burritos, cigarettes and whatever else they’d assume would make a bad film tolerable, but no matter what it never worked quite as well as riffing. 

“Ok Brain Guy, do you think you can get the movie set up for tonight,” Pearl said. It was less of a question and more of a test of intellect from the pale alien. 

“Sure, film reel or DVD?” he asked.

“DVD, it’s called Trash Humpers and I heard it sucks eggs.”

“Oh GOD!” Bobo exclaimed tiredly, walking into the quote unquote living room. “That movie is banned in my time, on the principal of it pretending to be art when it isn’t.” He set down the bowl of popcorn and a few cans of beer before collapsing exasperatedly on the couch. 

“Oh, so it isn’t just bad but it’s also pretentious. Brain Guy start the movie!” 

Pearl and Observer squeezed into the couch next to Bobo, shifting about until comfortably situated. It was not fifteen minutes into the movie before complaints started. 

“Well, I suppose this movie does deliver on its promise, people humping trash,” Pearl stated glumly, taking a slow drag from her cigarette.  
“I didn’t expect them to wear old people masks,” Bobo added in. 

“Well Brain Face do you have anything smart to say?” Pearl asked. Upon receiving nothing but silence se turned to look at the man next to her. He was completely sound asleep, blue tinged lips slightly parted and soft even breaths. 

“Aww, the sounds of people defiling aluminum must have put him right to sleep,” Bobo chuckled, before placing a chaste kiss on the side of the pale man’s face. The only indication that he felt it was a slight wiggle of his nose. 

Through the endless tide of white trash and humping trash, Pearl’s face lit up with an idea. 

“Say Bobo, how about a duel?” she asked, with a sinister grin on her painted red lips. Bobo flinched away from her instinctively. 

“No way, Lawgiver; you’re way better with a pistol than I am. I’ve learned my lesson from last time.”

“Not a gun duel you buffoon,” she hissed, trying not to wake Observer. “A kiss duel: whoever can kiss Brain Guy the most before he wakes up wins.” There was a look of mutual agreement and competitiveness between the two, Pearl leaned over and left a red lip stain on Observer’s face; the game was on. 

One by one kisses were placed, on his nose, lips, jawline and eyelashes, one by one his face was slowly being painted in red and stolen blue lipstick. 

“I think I’m winning,” Pearl gasped, lifting her head from the impressive hickey she was working on. Observer’s face was so covered in kiss marks, the two had to get creative. 

“As if,” Bobo replied, holding up one of Observer’s hands, placing a kiss on each delicately manicured finger.  
Observer eventually did wake up, with a jolt and a snuffle, surprised to find the two other Mads asleep and leaning against his shoulders. He was even more surprised to find hickeys and lipstick all over himself. 

“Well I suppose I ought to send you both to bed then,” he sighed to himself. With a nod of his head and very little exertion, they were both sent to their individual beds, but not without a blue kiss on both foreheads. 

Brain Guy got up off the couch and stretched, joints cracking from being on the couch for so long. It was early in the morning and he desperately needed a cold shower. 

On his way to the shower, he smirked to himself. He’d get revenge, and revenge is best served with high-heeled boots and a shiny little mini dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so completely indulgent, I shipped it since middle school and I've never found a piece of fanwork for it. Here's to the first!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
